


love in the time of the lost

by emmaslovebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaslovebug/pseuds/emmaslovebug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't understand why she's flirting back. Sure, he certainly is attractive, especially in this jungle humid heat but she knows that if she thinks on it too long she may do something that would not be beneficial to either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love in the time of the lost

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A little beaut from s3 with a slight au twist. For [Ali](http://sassy-killian.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, as a very very very very very belated birthday gift, but I'm oddly proud of it. Neverland renaissance never let you down right.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing; some lines used are directly from the show.

They had been trudging through the jungle for the past twenty or thirty minutes. Wait, was it forty? Time here in Neverland tends to run differently, Emma’s noticed. What seems like only 10 minutes could easily end up being over an hour and it’s making her patience run even thinner than it has been these past few days since they’ve arrived.

She just wants to get her son back.

But for now, she’s making her way past plant after plant that hit her in the face, tangled roots that keep tripping her up, and more bugs buzzing about in her ears than she’d care to admit. Following Hook to find food and firewood, destination unknown, she feels a ripple of frustration cascade down her back. She’s been watching him for the better part of this little adventure, and maybe even since they had started this whole journey, that little comment nagging at her temporal lobes and still making the hair on the back of her neck rise at the hint of promise in his voice.

( _Oh, well I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me._ )

She remembers the smirk on his face, the hooded eyes, and the way he carried himself that night, and she hates herself for _fucking_ liking it.

So, of course, looking at him now, at his easy swagger and the way the light humid breeze flows through his hair and the perfect way that blasted leather coat hangs off of him and swishes around his ankles, well of course anyone would be frustrated.

Someone as annoyingly attractive as him, flouncing his way around, the hot air stinging his cheeks red and beads of sweat rolling down his face, _god_ , well it does things to her and she can only be around him for so long before she’s going to combust.

It’s Neverland, she tells herself at night, it’s this horrid place made up of nightmares and mindfuckery that’s making her want to jump his bones every minute they’re alone together.

Hence why she’s walking a good distance behind him because if she walks past him all she’ll smell is him, the spice of rum and the salt of the ocean and how does he even still smell nice, they’ve been here for days he should be a bit ripe and that alone has her wanting to smack the smirk off his face 24/7. If she walks in front of him she knows exactly where he’ll be looking and she doesn’t know how long she’ll last feeling his eyes on her before she snaps and pushes him into the nearest tree.

She doesn’t actually want this, she doesn’t. _Not at all._ It’s just Neverland. It’s only Neverland.

At least that’s what she’s been telling herself to sleep at night.

-/-  
  
“Come on, just a bit farther to go.” He pulls back a large plant, giving her space to pass through.

God damn it, she was so close. Staying behind him was good, staying behind him was safe. She looked up, raising the lantern higher over her head, as she takes a hesitant step forward. Well, there’s not much she can do now. He’s waiting, all patience and self-awareness, so she needs to move already.

She scoots past him, giving him as wide of a berth as she can considering how small the path is, moving her feet quickly. All he does is chuckle under his breath, and she’s still close enough to where she can feel the light vibration of it roll down her arm and into her fingertips, setting her magic abuzz.

“You know, I don’t bite love. Although, for you I will gladly make an exception,” he says, his husky voice and warm breath resting against her ear. She shivers, her shoulder twitching to stop her feeling this way. _God_ , he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Uh-huh. Sure. Let’s go, you said we were close.” She’s being evasive, she knows it but she just really wants food and a fire, warmth coming from something other than his fingers resting on her lower back back when she passes by him or his promising words he whispers when he thinks no one else is around to hear.

He sighs, “Aye, straight up ahead, past this cluster of trees.”

They take a few more steps before she sees a pile of wood, probably previously made as one of Pan’s camps, and red berries lining the shrubs. She sets her lantern down, pulling out a makeshift bag her mother made from vines to collect the food while Hook gathers several large pieces of firewood.

Silently picking her way through the ones that look the best, she looks over her shoulder at his hunched back, his hook jamming into the ends of the pieces of wood that look like they’ll catch fire fastest. He’s taken his jacket off now, evidently too hot to keep it on, and the sleeves of his flimsy black shirt pulled up his forearms, showing off the dark hair and muscles. She can see the smattering of scarring right under where the brace hits, but she doesn’t say anything, afraid that she’ll say the wrong thing.

“Why are you even helping me, anyway? David could have come along instead.” She doesn’t point out that it would probably be easier for David to carry wood, because that would be the wrong thing. He insisted that he had it, probably wanting to look like a strong man in front of her.

(She never needed any impressing in that regard.)

“I offered to come along, since I know the area best and know where to find what we need. That is all,” he says simply. “Alas, you know as well as the rest of us that David only wanted to come along to keep me away from you.”

Hardy har har, yeah rig—wait, what?

“Wait, what?” She turns around fast, dropping some berries at her feet as her hair swings around her arms.

“You know, his highness trying to keep the big bad villainous pirate away from his daughter. Quite admirable, the lengths he’s willing to go,” he mutters, up on his feet and throwing a piece of wood into a pile behind him.

“Oh.” She shifts her eyes, stammering to say something, anything. “But…but, that doesn’t make sense. He certainly knows that I can take care of myself.”

She shouldn’t be angry. He’s just her father, and she the long lost daughter he is finally able to protect, but it’s taken its toll on her. She’s almost thirty years old, a woman of independence and strength who can take care of herself and any man that she deems unworthy and who’s getting in her way.  

The thing is, she doesn’t see Hook as someone who’s getting in her way. Sure, he’s certainly very obnoxious and a bit too cocky sometimes, but he’s here. He is risking his life on this island for them, all of them. And even if it might not seem like it to most, she is grateful. Her parents may see her roll her eyes when he makes innuendos or tense her shoulders when he’s being frustratingly transparent, but deep down she knows he’s got his life on the line out here.

And she likes to believe it’s for her. With all the subtle comments, she’s leaning towards that being the case but she doesn’t want to assume. Assuming never turned out well for her in the past.

“Oh, don’t I know it. Don’t I recall, not too long ago, you handcuffed me to many different places, Swan? You seem to have quite the affinity for that particular object, don’t you love?” Chucking the last piece of firewood into the pile, he comes forward, dragging his coat in hand. His mouth is parted, the tip of his tongue grazing the plump bottom lip.

“And you don’t?” She tilts her head up slyly, her gaze heated as she looks at him through her eyelashes. She quirks her eyebrow slightly, throwing him an all too familiar smirk. Chuckling under her breath at his surprised yet appreciative expression, she moves aside, bending down to grab the fallen berries. She thinks they’ll make a great snack later while she thinks over what the _hell_ is going on with him, with her, with _them_.

She does not understand why she’s flirting back. Sure, he certainly is attractive, especially in this jungle humid heat but she knows that if she thinks on it too long she may do something that would not be beneficial to either of them. Except to maybe quell the sudden surge of _heat_ between her legs whenever she sees him leaning all casual like against a tree or rubbing behind his ear or even when, especially when, he stares at her like she’s the most scrumptious meal in the galley of the ship and like he wants to indulge in her all night long.

Twisting around, she sees him standing stock still where she left him and there’s a swell of pride within her, knowing that she could render him utterly speechless.

Yet she doesn’t let a grin escape. She can’t give him the idea that she actually enjoys this, now can she?

-/-

_She feels it all over, in the tips of her fingers and the pulse of her neck. She feels the hum of magic just beneath her skin, vibrating across her whole body, lifting all the small hairs onto their ends creating a distinct feeling she’s never encountered before, she thinks._

_As he runs his ringed fingers down the slope of her shoulders and over the swell of her breasts, the rough pads of his fingertips caressing a pert nipple—creating an oh so delicious sensation—all she can do is huff out breathless sighs and whimpers, egging him on._

_He’s kneeling above her, her legs lightly resting atop his thighs, as he lays open mouthed kisses along her jaw and her neck. His tongue tracing her pulse point, making the vein thump wildly in time with her heart._

_His coat has long since been discarded somewhere near his desk, her tank accompanying it, and her pants dangling from one ankle; proof of their urgency to touch one another._

_The breathless pants, the sighs full of passion, the smacking of lips upon one another has goosebumps rising upon her skin. He’s moving down down down, his mouth and tongue caressing her breasts, the curve of her stomach – dipping into her navel quickly, driving her crazy – coming to rest at the edge of her thin panties._

_He runs his hand and hook up her legs, gripping the edges and quickly sliding them down, laying a peck upon each hipbone for good measure._

_She feels it all over. His mouth is dipping lower and lower until he’s directly on her heat, driving her heartbeat and arousal higher and higher. The flat of his tongue is pressed against her clit, as he hums out his approval at her taste, the vibrations running straight through her and causing her to cry out into the night._

_It’s too much, much too much. All the heat and the passion and quivering hands and bodily shivers has her gripping at his hair with blind fingers, threading them through the strands to pull him impossibly closer and closer and closer until he’s flattening her hips against the bed and circling her clit with the tip of his before closing his lips around the bud and sucking…_

_…and she’s screaming; louder than she’s ever thought she would be. Screaming into pillow that lays beside her, her voice reverberating off the wood beams creating a cacophony of pleasure that has her thighs tightening around his head._

_Stars are bursting behind her eye lids, fireworks of amazing color, of the sun and moon and the sea; and he’s draping himself over her, gripping her thigh with his hand and wrapping it around his him and he’s sinking into her tight wet heat. Lower and lower and lower until he’s full hilt inside of her and her name is on his lips, a confession of his sins, “Oh, Emma…”_

-/-

With a whimper on her lips, she awakens. Shivers still wracking her body, and heat pooling between her thighs, she raises herself up on the cot made of large leaves and branches. She’s surprised she could sleep at all given how uncomfortable their living quarters were and how occupied her thoughts were on finding Henry. Glancing down at her hands, she sees they’re still shaking, half-moon marks lining the palms from her nails, obviously clenching them while dreaming.

_What the hell?_

Looking around, she notices that Mary Margaret and David are wrapped up in each other’s arms under the makeshift tent, while Regina is lying spread eagle, her clothed foot dangling off the edge of mat. She remembers she made a comment about rabid animals or worse, rabid kids, would come to steal her shoes while sleeping. Emma highly doubted that. Not much use high heeled boots would be to a bunch of teenage boys in the jungle.

With another glance around, she sees that Hook is no longer among them. This worries her. He doesn’t seem to get much sleep regardless, but he doesn’t usually leave them to their own devices, especially knowing their naiveté and general lack of knowledge to their surroundings. She knows that it’s because he doesn’t feel safe here; hell, none of them do. But for him it’s worse, always going on about ‘Pan this and Pan that’ like he’s waiting behind every tree trunk they pass waiting to kill them all one by one.

She debates getting up and looking for him. She knows he’s probably off swigging back some of his rum and figuring a way off this island. And if Henry was already with them, she would have poofed them back onto the Jolly Roger herself if she could.

But she can’t. Nor does she think she can handle seeing his face right now, not after that dream. Not after how utterly _wet_ she got because of it. Seeing him would cause all kind of emotions and feelings and urges to rise that she doesn’t think she’ll be able to handle right now.

She lies back down on the cot, curling up into a ball with her hands between her thighs for warmth and attempts to fall back asleep under the moonlight.

But all she can see behind her eyelids is his haunting blue eyes and crooked smirk and fingers tracing her shape.

She doesn’t get a wink that night.

-/-

The next night was different however. Hook and David had gone off to get more materials, David more quiet than some. She was nervous, they certainly weren’t each other’s biggest fans, but they both _thankfully_ came back unscathed. David was going on about Hook saving him from some lost boys and she knew automatically it was a lie…of sorts, but she didn’t dwell on it too long because they were soon cheering him with rum and she was thanking him.

She never thought in a million years, she’d be thanking him, but here she was.

And there he was.

Standing there all nervousness and blush and sweat from the heat and then he’s touching his lips with the tip of his finger— _oh how she wants to be that finger_ —so she does it. She reaches up, roughly grabbing his lapels and bringing him a few inches shorter so she can touch him perfectly. Her lips land on his with a ferocity she didn’t think she was capable of, and they’re much softer than they look and they taste like the rum they just shared.

He rests his hand on the back of her head, while bringing his hook to her right hip, and the pace changes. It started out fast and panicked, but the moment he returns it, the kiss softens and the passion rises. He tilts her head to kiss her deeper and deeper, sighing into her mouth and grabbing her tighter, bringing her in closer and closer while they’re mouths chase each other.

She lets go on an exhale, her feet fumbling in the dirt for purchase, her legs quivering under the force of the kiss. She never thought in a million years it would feel like this. She never thought he’d be selfless yet selfish in one kiss and it makes her wonder what it would be like to truly be with him, her dream doing no justice to the real thing. She wants to feel this again.

(And again and again.)

(And that scares her.)

She’s never wanted someone this much, she realizes with a jolt. With her mouth inches from his, their noses grazing each other, she realizes that she could stay like this forever. And of course it scares her because she didn’t come here for this—this crazy turbulent ride of feelings for this beautiful man—she came here for her son.

“That was…”

She sighs. She has to do this, she must. “A one-time thing.”

She walks away, her head held high but her heart still racing and her lips still tingling. She still feels him all around her.

“As you wish,” he says.

She smirks.  _She’s in trouble._

-/-

And then Neal showed back up. Apparently he was here the whole time, but they just found out. Damn Pan, creating puzzles and riddles and just _fucking_ her over. Not only does she have Hook being his smug handsome self on one side, but now the man she thought she loved for so long, the father of her son, is suddenly back and she doesn’t know what to do.

It was all a blur; the Echo Cave, seeing him in that cage all small and scared, Hook’s confession—causing her heart to leap in her throat and tears to prick the corners of her eyes—and her subsequent confession to Neal.

“I was hoping you were dead because it would be easier to put you behind me than to face all the pain that we went through all over again,” she says, her vision blurring but with a weightlessness on her shoulders for finally— _finally_ —bringing this out into the open.

He hugs her, and she returns it halfheartedly. As they leave, she makes eye contact with Hook and she can see the attempted indifference trying to cover the sadness and frustration, and she feels absolutely terrible.

Suddenly she understands. She realizes that she doesn’t want to hurt this man. She remembers the kiss, the feel of his sturdy body beneath her hands; she remembers his eyes as he stares after her when she walks away. And now Emma understands exactly why she was pushing him away. She walks out of the cave, knowing exactly what she needs to do.

Neal catches her after everyone goes ahead and starts waxing poetic about how he won’t give up again, that he’ll fight for her and she has to fight not to roll her eyes at this because she’s heard this a hundred times from him in the past. Always ‘we’ll find Tallahassee’ and ‘we’ll do this together,’ and even after not having seen him in over ten years, it’s still the same spiel, different location.

But she just nods her head and hums, “Mm-hm.”

She walks away. She’s suddenly aware of what she wants.

-/-

“But we’ll have to stick together if we want the best chance at defeating these guys,” David says, adamantly.

It had been several hours since they left the cave. They had all agreed to go after Pan and his clan today, regardless of where the camp was. They would just keep moving until they found it.

But now they were all arguing the best way to go about it, and no one could agree on a course of action.

“I agree,” Mary Margaret chimes in. “If we’re separated, we run into the off chance that one of us could get really hurt. At least together, we have the powers to take them down in order to get to Henry.”

Hook shakes his head. “While I would normally agree, lass,” he sighs, “these nasty buggers travel in large packs. There are more boys on this island than you think. If we all stay together, they’ll all come to get us. If we separate, we have better luck that they’ll come to us in smaller droves.”

They were both making quite valid points, but something still bothered her. If they were all together, that’s five against who knows how many. And with Rumple and Regina nearby but refusing to help for whatever asinine reasons they could come up with, they’re without any magical powers aside from hers which are unreliable enough as it is.

And alone, well, she’s always worked best alone, hasn’t she?  Why would this time be any different?

“I agree with Hook on this one,” she says, to the surprised stares of everyone around. “Well, he makes a great point, and it would much easier to be separated. If you guys want to stay together and fight, by all means, but I’m doing this myself.”

She turns around, grabbing the map, walking away from the group to get a better handle of what to do. She feels people walk up behind her, she assumes it’s the group, but she sees it’s only Mary Margaret.

“But…Emma, we promised that we’d work with you to get him back; we want to live up to that promise. We don’t want to let you down.” She had that look in her eyes that causes guilt to rise up in her throat, even when nothing is her fault.

“I…I know, but if we’re separate we’ll not only cover more ground, but we won’t be distracted. Killian’s right, having to face one or two lost boys per person is a lot easier than who knows how many if we stay together.”

Her eyebrows crease in the middle, looking utterly confused, “Wait, Killian? Since when did you start calling him Killian?”

Emma didn’t even notice the slip up, so she just shakes it off. “What?”

“Hook. You just called him Killian, but-“

“I don’t know, okay? It just happened, but, you know, that is his name,” she says a bit incredulously, this didn’t matter right now; not when they were so close to getting Henry.

“I know! It’s just surprising is all.”

“We have other things to worry about than what I call Hook, okay? So, how about we get going, yeah?”

Mary Margaret sighs, clearly upset about how indifferent Emma outwardly appears to the situation, but she doesn’t have the time to feel guilty about this right now. Later, when everyone is safe, she will apologize, knowing that she needs to, but for now there’s business to attend to. “Okay, you’re right. Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” she says, walking back towards the rest of the group. “I think it’s best if you and David stick together, you guys always work best together. Kil—Hook and Neal, do what you guys feel is best; work together or apart, whichever.”

They all nod and hum in agreement, and while she’s bent down fixing the small knife she has hidden in her boot she feels Hook’s eyes on her form. She can tell he wants to say something, either about the almost name slip up or that she can tell he wants to come with her instead, to protect her. And deep down, she wants to agree to that, she wants to work alongside because they really do work well together.

( _I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team._ )

She didn’t know how right he was when he said that until now. Which is why she has to do this alone. She refused to let him get hurt because of her.

So, no. She’ll do this herself, just like she’s done everything else in her life.

-/-

That plan was shot to hell not much longer, though.

She saw it all happen, right before her eyes. 

They had been fighting the lost boys again, knowing they were getting closer and closer to either finding Henry or die trying. She was fighting off a scrawny little boy, probably only around 12 years old with a mop of brown hair and freckles filling his entire face and he reminds her so much of Henry that it fucking _hurts_ and she just can’t take it anymore. Pushing the kid off of her, she glared and turned to run away, closer to everyone else. She felt the clip of a blade on her calf, the kid still clearly wanted to fight her, but she paid no mind. She ran off, scrambling though the camp looking for anyone else, Snow or David or even… _Hook, no…Killian_. Though they all separated from each other, they ended up staying within the same vicinity, the lost boys coming within equal radii to everyone. This particular camp had been bigger than the previous one they came upon before. So she just kept running, running until she could hear the clatter of swords or the rough shouts of distressed voices anywhere else but here.

She claimed she could do this on her own—told everyone that she wanted to do this part on her own—even if it was one on one with just a kid, she figured she had it covered. She was wrong.

And it’s all because he was a kid. So much like her own boy that fighting him seemed almost immoral and she had to stop before she took it too far because not only is she not a murderer, she’s especially not a murderer of children. Regardless of what said children had done in the past, if the cries about Ruffio that Killian had made earlier to the malnourished blond one held any merit.

Putting it behind her, she runs and runs, through the low hanging leaves and the mosquitoes buzzing when further ahead she hears a shout; a howl of pain from a very familiar deep voice and it reverberates within her.

Coming up short at a clearing, she witnesses Mary Margaret and David fighting off a couple of lanky lost boys, seemingly winning; Regina and Rumple are still nowhere to be found, probably off using her magic somewhere. But what catches her attention quick is Killian lying on the forest floor, his fingers grasping against his rib cage, a look of pure torture on his face that is utterly _heartbreaking._

She doesn’t even hear Neal calling out for her, telling her to be careful; all she sees is Killian hurt and yelling out in pain and the sound causes her to rush forward, kneeling down next to him, grabbing his hand in hers.

“Killian! No…what, what happened?” She grasps for words, all of them jumbling together, the frightened tone very obvious.

He struggles for breath, sucking in harder and harder each time. There’s a grimace on his face, but he does his best to force the words out, “He struck me,” he gasps, “he struck me with an arrow.” There’s a knowing gleam in his eye.

She understands immediately.

With wide eyes and fear creeping in, she utters, “Dreamshade?”

“Ye-Yeah. Oh, bloody hell that hurts.”

“I know, I know. We just have to fix this is all.” She raises his vest up his chest, seeing the formation of the black web of veins, nasty and full of poison. She gags, the look of it terribly disturbing. She remembers a couple of days ago, after they had _kissed_ , she had asked him where he and David had actually gone and what he actually saved him from and she remembers the water he talked about. She remembers how they came up with the plan that Rumple would be able to fix a potion so he could return to Storybrooke.

He grimaces as he tries to sit up, but she pushes him down, one hand on each shoulder. He’s smirking through the pain, throwing a ‘bossy minx’ in her direction, and she has to admire that he can still be joking at a time like this.

“I’ll just have to go get that water you told me about, right? It’ll fix it and we can figure the rest out later, okay?”

“Do you really think the Crocodile is going to help me, Swan? We’ve had this feud for longer than I care to admit and that’s not going to stop just because we’re on a mission to save your son. He will gladly,” he sucks in a breath, harshly panting from the exertion of talking, “he will gladly watch me die upon this damned island, love.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care.” She sits back on her heels, sucking in a nervous breath. “You don’t deserve to die like this, no one does. If he won’t do it, then we will. I will.” She crosses her arms over her chest, supremely stubborn, even though it’s obvious that she knows nothing of potion-making. Hell, she just started practicing magic from Regina two days ago.

She reaches down his chest, her hand caressing the wound lightly so as to cause as little pain as possible. He hisses sharply, but his face and body relax quickly, his hand reaching down to place it atop hers. They look into each other’s eyes, his pained and glossy from trying to stay awake, fearing what might happen if he were to close his eyes, even for a minute. Her eyes are full of tears, wide and caring, which is strange for someone who claimed she cared nothing for this man a mere week ago before this journey even began.

“And why, love, would you want to do that?”

She smirks, looking down at their joined hands. “I think—I think you know why.”

She wants to laugh out loud, into the muggy air, because this situation is just too wild. Confessing her sort of feelings to _Captain fucking Hook_ while he lies on the grounds of Neverland never would’ve passed on her radar too long ago, but now here she is. Here she is, kind of sort of falling for a classic fairytale villain (albeit, one that’s much more attractive than his movie counterpart), realizing what kind of man he really is. The kind of man that helps out a family in need, helps to save a child to whom he owes nothing, simply to show that he’s a good man. To show _her_ that he’s a good man.

He just raises an eyebrow in her direction, the hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth.

_Cheeky bastard_.

“Are you quite sure? Because I don’t think I do, I may need some reminding,” he chuckles deeply, obviously ignoring the pain in his side.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what, love?”

“Flirt and joke around like you aren’t about to die if we don’t get you some help?” She shoots him earnest eyes, a slight pout on her lips because she really _really_ doesn’t want him to go. She’s going to try everything in her power to save him.

He sobers quickly, his lips losing his smile and his eyes losing that familiar crinkle of mirth and laughter.

He doesn’t answer, turning his head in the opposite direction, resting his hand back on the ground.

She misses the warmth of that hand.

_Don’t go. No. No no no. Don’t go._

She leans forward, her head hovering above his so she can look directly in his eyes. She uses her hand to trace his face, her thumb rest next to his mouth and lifting, creating a semblance of a smile.

She whispers, so only he can hear, “Listen—listen, I don’t want you to go, okay? I don’t know what this is or why I’m feeling this way, but I am and I really—I really don’t want to lose that. I don’t know if it’s love because honestly I’ve spent so long running from it that I probably wouldn’t even know, but I know that I care—care for you, that I don’t want you to go. And why can’t you just listen to me when I say that you’re the first person, in a while, if ever, to make me feel this way. I don’t—I can’t lose that.” Sucking in a sharp breath, she rests her forehead against his, her eyes closing. “So listen to me, I’m going to do everything in my power to fix this, whether you believe it can be fixed or not. I will do it.”

Opening her eyes, she glances into his too blue eyes before pressing her lips lightly to his. He sighs against her lips, as they open and deepen, pouring all of their feelings into each other. She chokes slightly on a sob, but just presses her lips harder, her tongue tangling with his with all the passion she can muster. Her fingers grasp at the back of his neck, keeping him close close close. _She can’t lose this_.

With a sigh, she releases him slowly, keeping her eyes closed for fear of what she’ll see in his.

There’s a deep rumble in his chest, so she opens her eyes to see him chuckling _again_.

“Darling, if you wanted to kiss me again, all you had to do was ask,” he says, huskily.

Shaking her head, faux anger in her eyes, she lightly punches him. “Really?”

His chuckling dies down, his face pulling a grimace from the still imminent pain. He traces her face with his fingers, his thumb grazing her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly under the weight. His eyes trace the same pattern, before looking her back in the eyes. There’s nothing but truth vibrant in them.

“I will win your heart, Emma, you can trust me on that.”

And for the first time, she finally believes those words.

-/-

(They eventually find Rumple, dressed in his crocodile suit, facing off with Pan himself. They come to find out that Pan is his father, and if Emma didn’t think this whole ‘being part of fairytales’ business was weird before, well that just took the cake.

However, she doesn’t let that discourage her from asking him to help Killian. He refuses at first, going on and on about ‘villainous codes’ and whatnot, but then Neal steps in, surprisingly, and tells him that he’s going to do it because it’s the right thing to do. He listens then.

That doesn’t stop her from punching him in the face for good measure.)

-/-

(Two days later they return home with precious cargo on board. Henry is safe, or so they hope, and now so is Killian. They go through the motions of getting used to Storybrooke again, even though Emma can see something is wrong with Henry.

She keeps her mind off of it for a while, letting him stay at Regina’s. And the first night she sleeps over on the Jolly Roger, laying in Killian’s arms, watching the stars overhead, she couldn’t be happier.)

-/-

(But then a crisis rears its ugly head, Pan’s curse taking over the town, and suddenly she has to leave with Henry because everyone is going to be swept back to the Enchanted Forest and she’s scared. She’s asking why she has to leave, why can’t she go back with everyone, they had all just started being a family. But she realizes that since Henry is not from there, he will forever be stuck here and she can’t have that. They need to stay together. So she says her goodbyes, she hugs and ‘I love yous’ in all the right ways, but when she gets to Killian she can’t say goodbye to him. They’ve just started things and she can’t see her life without him in it.

She wants to stay up late with him and Henry, eating pizza and watching terrible horror movies on Netflix. She wants to lay with him in bed at night, staring into each other’s eyes. She wants to be able to feel the way she felt in that dream she had in Neverland and she know that he will make her feel good because he’s already winning her heart. And according to him, “that’s when the fun begins.”)

-/-

(Therefore, when her parents and Regina say that she should bring Killian with her, create a life with him that she wouldn’t otherwise have, she takes it without preamble.

And as she’s driving away, she looks back at the smoke covered town, and makes a promise to herself that she’ll come back for them. She’ll always come back to her family.

And she’ll do it with her new family alongside her.)


End file.
